


Alcoholic moth

by Taniushka12



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bar Fight, Daniel "dont look at my boner while we fight" Jacobi, Feauting: Doug "'sup im depressed and lowkey suicidal" Eiffel, M/M, Self-Hatred, ft Warren "cockblock but accidentally join a 3some" Kepler, kepcobi kepffel and kepcoffel are also There but not enough to tag them i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12
Summary: AU where Eiffel runs away from the police after the car crash, and later meets Jacobi for the first time on the aniversary of the deaths.





	Alcoholic moth

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Polilla alcoholica](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499902) by [Taniushka12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12). 



The sun judged at the top of the sky as the hot air burned his skin at every step he made, finally succumbing when he entered the bar and sat in the counter. At his side a stranger made him company in his misery, although without really saying anything. He drank in silence while he opened up more and more after drinking a quarter of his bottle in one swing, feeling how the alcohol burned his throat. Well deserving, he thought while he bitterly laughed to keep himself from crying, having finished already and being unable to look at the man with the glasses and a vague frown. Surely he thought that he was the worst. Worst boyfriend, worst father, and worst person. He believed that too. He didn't deserve the kindness of a stranger, not after...

 —Oh wow. —He raised his head at the sound of pure skepticism and coldness instead of venom or forgiveness, and it certainly made him feel uncomfortable—. You drunkenly crashed your car and hurt your daughter and a couple of kids, how _terrible_. —He rested his face on his hand, spitting sarcasm on the cruelest way possible—. You're just a piece of shit in my opinion. Call me when you actually kill her tho.

 His last words were pronounced with a twisted smile and dark eyes behind his broken glasses, of someone that has seen and done more than they wanted to, before grabbing his glass with his other hand -a prostetic one, his brain vaguely registred- and drinking all the remaining content. Eiffel kept statically looking at him while he poured another round of his cheap alcohol, but before he could grab it and drink it he found himself making direct contact of his fist in his face, and listening as he fell to the ground with a rumble, aside from his own irregular breathing.

 —What the fuck!? —Asked the stranger, one hand on his cheek and nose and the other on the counter, trying to get back on his feet. He, certainly, helped him, grabbing him from the collar of his shirt to try and push him against a stool, if he weren't so drunk and felt like the world was spinning. He could hear the barman yell something, and next thing he knew was that both kept that patetic excuse of fight on the alleyway behind the bar. The stranger, while taller than him, wasn't only less heavy than him but also was equally or even more intoxicated, and grabbing him by the shirt he fell backwards into the wall. He took advantage of it and pinned him there.

 — _Don't you ever talk like that about my daughter._

 —Or what, pretty boy? —He replied with a maddened smile and quick breathing—. What're you going to do?

 He tried to grab him by the shirt, but they both ended up falling into the ground again, Eiffel on top of him. He could feel his head spinning while feeling his hot breath in his face, trying to ignore his weird, vaguely bloody smile and his blown eyes. He could swear that when he raised his fist again he saw him preparing for the impact without even trying to cover up, ready to recieve any punishment for anything that he's done.

 Because he could see it, he could see it on those vicious violence-thirsy eyes how much he wanted someone to put an end to his sad life.

 At that point he didn't know if what he was seeing was trully what he thought were the other man's emotions, or his own suicidal thoughts proyected on those grey eyes, but at the feeling of his hand starting to cramp before the blow he lowered it, taking a breath of air and letting it out with a shaky sigh, realizing what he was about to do. He rested his hand on the wall behind the man, laughing a bit when he stopped smiling and stared at him with a frown.

 —I'm sorry. —He murmured, feeling the tension of the situation begin to decant. He could hear him complain, but he didn't raise his voice until he finally got up, moving away.

 —No, no, _no. Hit me you **coward!**_

 He made a face, but still offered a hand to help him get up. It was the last thing he could do after making his nose bleed, he guessed, although after his words he wasn't sure he deserved it or not. The man simply stared at his hand for a few seconds as if this offended his entire existence before awkwardly getting up by himself, spitting on the ground, and walking back inside the bar after cleaning the line of blood on his face. Eiffel stood there for a few more seconds, being unable to process everything that just took place, before the heat of the situation slowly changed for the stinging heat of the sun on his neck and his face and he followed the stranger's steps.

 He could tell how the owner of the bar looked him warily while he took a breath on the doorstep, exchanging glances from him to the other man already sitting on his stool, but he tried to put on his best possible smile given the circunstances to convein the message that everything was alright. Then barked a laugh, without being able to avoid thinking how utterly stupid it sounded the phase everything was alright when he was on the scene. He was a mess, he was the worst and he ruined everything he touched. Even so the barman didn't say a word when he dropped his whole weigh in the stool next to the stranger, asking for another bottle having previously finished the other one.

 —Ugh... —Complained the stranger when he offered to fill his glass—. Why?

 —An apologize for your nose...

 —You could have kept going, you know? I wouldn't have minded.

 —...Besides you already finished yours. —He finished, ignoring his last comment. He stayed there in silence for a few seconds, scrutinizing him with his somewhat vacant eyes, until he turned them to the empty glasses on the counter, and made an afirmative grunt despite himself. He poured him a glass with a smile, and couldn't help but stare at him while he drank.

 It was... strange. Now that he actually paid attention he could see a couple of interesting details. Beside his broken glasses and the prostetic arm the man had part of his skin eaten by the fire. Burn marks ocupied his cheek and neck, and when Eiffel looked down he could see more on his other arm and on a part of chest that could be seen behind the cloth of his shirt. He felt... sad, since he could see that he was someway in the same situation as him, but aside from that he felt a great, massive, and morbid curiosity.

 At some point he realized that the other was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

 —What? —He asked, with certain annoyance in his voice.

 —I'm Eiffel. —Now he was looking at him with a frown, but before he could open his mouth and say whatever he was thinking, he kept talking—. What's your story?

 —My... what?

 —Your story. Your background, you know...

 —I don't have a-

 —Nobody that says that they wouldn't have minded if someone kept beating them up or not _doesn't_  have a story.

 He heard a groan and felt his squinting on him, but then, to his surprise, he could see how he was checking him out with certain air that he wasn't sure he could identify.

 —...I'm Jacobi.

 And then... he started. He told him his story dryly in contrast to the way he had told him his before, and he could almost have looked sober if not by the way he gestured some words, and the way his tongue dragged sometimes. He had been right about him, about Jacobi, and even tho his words at the beginning of the conversation still felt like burning metal on his memory they certainly didn't surprise him.

 —I'm... —He streched, weighing his words to avoid starting another useless fight—. I'm sorry.

 Jacobi laughed, with a hint of bitterness and sarcasm.

 —Oh, that means so much coming from you. I didn't ran from the police tho, in my defense.

 —You killed those guys.

 —Yeah, and look where it took me. —He raised his prostetic arm in front of his scars, eyes full of alcohol and dark bags under them, and Eiffel wasn't quite sure of what to say.

 —I... I think we're both a mess. —He ended up saying, resting his hand on his shoulder. He heard his laugh again but he could feel how he vaguely leaned on his arm, and he ran his hand from his shoulder to his back.

 —Holding me and saying that I'm a mess? Wow, you sound like my ex boyfriend already.—Now he certainly didn't know what to say, although with a bit of lucidy he was able to tie up a couple of loose ends with that remark. Even so he kept the original topic.

 —That's depressing.

 —Hm yeah, well, _you_  know how it is. —His tone was somewhat jokey, and despite his previous comments this time he didn't felt that extreme hostility from before, but in any case he still felt the punch and looked down with a vague smile. Although he felt surprised when he felt his metal hand on the hollow of his back—. 'm sorry.

 His voice didn't sound all that remorseful, but he guessed he couldn't ask much more of him having in mind...everything, really. Having said that, he couldn't help but shiver when his hand started making circles with his thumb above his shirt. If he were sober he would probably have been annoyed, and even in that state he could see how stupid and ridiculous it was to be attracted by a man like him.

 (He wasn't sure of who was he talking about).

 —Eiffel... —He spoke with an air of forced calm, and he took a deep breath—. This place sucks, and my house isn't that far away... Wanna...?

 Stupid! Ridiculous! This guy knew the story of his life and not only didn't hate him -like any sane person should, plus himself- but also apparently didn't even care. And last but not least, in that moment Eiffel didn't know who was worse. Which of them was at the bottom of the pond? The man who accidentally killed two people and now lamented when his life was fucked or the guy who has had a shitty life and throwed away the only good thing that he had, and then ran away like the _coward_  he was? Jacobi was looking at someone at the worst of the worst, and didn't think more than sleeping with him.

 Eiffel smiled.

  Every part of him told him no, but honestly... he had so much alcohol on him, it's been months since he was with someone, and after all, what was the worse that could happen? That he were a madman that wanted to kill him?

 —Sure, why not?

 He almost expected him to do it. It would do the world a favor, in his opinion.

 

 Having said that, fortune did not always favor the brave and the stupid, for before they could even pay the bill a third man sat on the other side of Jacobi and started talking with a tone of caramel liquor.

 —Good afternoon... gentlemen. —He stared at his partner, looking at him for a second before going back to Jacobi.

 Eiffel huffed, mildly annoyed for being ignored in such way, and started to get up when a hand on his arm stopped him. Jacobi looked at the stranger with a frown, but even he could see the way his grey eyes roamed his body, and seeing how he didn't make any move to get up with him Eiffel sat again in his place. He didn't know if he saw well, but he thought he saw the stranger smile at that. He would be offended, if he weren't that drunk.

 The stranger's name, he learned at some point, was Kepler, and by God he talked more than Eiffel thought was possible for a human being, which was a lot coming from _him_. He stopped paying attention at some point, trying to remember exactly why they were still there, having in mind where they were going with Jacobi. But even with how light he felt his head and his contradictory thoughts it didn't take him a while to realize the real interest of his partner. Kepler, beyond his stupid stories, was incredibely atractive, and the voice with which he wrapped his words was like gold.

 It was like the branded whiskey that burned his throat in that exact moment.

 Eiffel pulled a face to his glass, feeling as that, all that, was going to end up very badly. He wanted to get out of there to any place that was Jacobi's house, whatever sad and rented hellhole in which he probably lived, like him, but he knew that, if he had to choose, he would also choose Kepler.

 It was at the end of their talk when he realized that said man left his place in the counter, leaving a card on his place and a Jacobi looking both mildly astonished and frustrated at his back. Eiffel frowned.

 —Hey you! _Tall, dark and handsome!_

 He could feel a few eyes turn to stare at him, especially Jacobi's and Kepler's, who turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

 —Yes?

 —...My friend right here and I were about to leave when you came... —He borrowed a look from him, and at their close distance he could feel his questioning air, but before he could understand he finished his propose—. D'you wanna, I dunno, _join us_  for a while?

 He could hear a gasp of surprise despite the general rumble of the place, but his stare was set on those black eyes of the man in front of him. Pride and arrogance, were the words he would use to describe what he saw, with a calculating plus. He could see the machine of his brain work for a second before smiling with intention and stretch his arm, and Eiffel felt a shiver up his spine.

 —I'm all yours.

 The bill was paid, and without wasting more time Jacobi got up, impatient. It took Eiffel a bit more time, trying to order his own thoughts, when he saw the forgotten card above the counter. "Goddard Futuristics". When he looked up he was met with Kepler's smile, almost lascivious, almost mocking, and Eiffel was sure of seeing something more. There was something in this situation that wasn't right, there was something that it was gonna end up very badly, and he knew it.

 —Eiffel, you coming or not? —Asked Jacobi with a hand on his arm.

 —Yes, Eiffel. It would be a shame if you stayed behind. —Commented Kepler with a hand on his neck, tracing his cheek with his thumb. He closed his eyes for an moment, taking a shaky breath.

 He was on the firing line.

 But.

 Like a moth, he couldn't do more than get closer. He didn't want to do anything else than that. If everything went wrong, it was well deserved. If it didn't...

 —Lead the way. —He whispered to Jacobi, fixing his eyes into Kepler's—. I'm following.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear one day ill write something nice with these two (bc they are... my otp) but there's so many sad aus i can do :')
> 
> PD: english isn't my first language and this wasn't beta'd, if you see any mistake please let me know ! ~~the phrasing may be a little odd at times, my writing style is much more fluid in spanish :/~~


End file.
